"I learnt it indirectly from Madame herself," said Miss Toat, evasively. "I suppose she was the person you heard breathing in the passage?"
"No," said Parizade, decisively. "I am sure that person was a man."
"Why do you think so?"
"Because the breathing was so heavy, and there was that smell of Harris tweed--you can't mistake that smell--and only men wear Harris tweed."
"Yes and no. Ladies sometimes have dresses made of it. But describe exactly how you came to hear and smell this person."
"Oh"--Parizade yawned--"I have told you so often."
"Tell me again. Every time you tell me I get a fresh idea."
"Well," said the blind girl, lying back passively, "on the night of the murder--of course, we none of us knew anything about it until next morning--Madame and the girls went to bed just after nine o'clock, as we were all so tired. Madame, after she saw Miss Branwin at the door to say that her mother would remain for treatment, sent away her husband and retired. It was just after nine when I remembered that I left a present from Walter to me in the shop. I didn't want the other girls to see it, so I went down about half-past nine."
"In the darkness, of course?" said the listening detective.
"Yes. Darkness and light are the same to me. I know the house so well that I never stumble or miss my way. Well, I found the present--a pair of gloves--just where Peri Banou had been lying in the alcove--I believe she must have seen them. Then, in returning along the lower passage, I heard the sound of heavy breathing at the end near the door which leads into the court."